


The Apple from the Tree

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'abondance par La Dame Marciana [14]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (or lack thereof tbh), Background Vaxleth, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, percy is adorable and vex is blushu-blushu, sassy!Cassie, some strong language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8330218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: Vex sputters into her tea, hastily trying to recompose herself into some semblance of dignity again as she puts her cup down, coughing and choking. Beside her, Vax is doing the same, and she can’t blame him.When they were told two days earlier that Lord Syldor Vessar, diplomat of Syngorn, was headed to Whitestone with a small envoy, a marriage of political convenience was far from the last thing Vex’ahlia had expected would be their agenda for the day.





	1. And All of your Words Fall Flat

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER** : Usual disclaimers apply.
> 
>  **NOTES** : I have been wanting to write this for a LONGGGGG time, maybe since the week between episodes 59 and 60 of Critical Role. I had initially intended this to be a single-chaptered one-shot, but as usually happens with any non-smut ideas I have that come to fruition, PFFFFFT. I'm pretty sure though that this idea has been written to death and beyond for this ship, but I just really love the idea. Not so much the whole marriage-of-convenience thing, but the...well, you'll see.
> 
>  **SOME CONTEXT** : By now, Percy knows of Vex's feelings towards him, and although he didn't say no, he did ask for some time to consider things (which really is just his way of saying he feels the same but needs to work up the courage to actually tell her that), which Vex has been happy to give him. They're not dating or officially together, but they're also not not-flirting, if that makes sense.
> 
>  **SONG-SPIRATION** : ["Piece by Piece," Kelly Clarkson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqCqYP7hDWI)

* * *

Vex sputters into her tea, hastily trying to recompose herself into some semblance of dignity again as she puts her cup down, coughing and choking. Beside her, Vax is doing the same, and she can’t blame him.

When they were told two days earlier that Lord Syldor Vessar, diplomat of Syngorn, was headed to Whitestone with a small envoy, a marriage of political convenience was far from the last thing Vex’ahlia had expected would be their agenda for the day.

Then again, she doesn’t know what she was expecting. She had never really expected him to come to or turn up in Whitestone, didn’t expect him to bring Divana and Velora (although Vex is fully aware that they are here only to keep herself and her brother in a good mood). She hadn’t expected him to wait almost a full day and tour Whitestone first before the audience he had apparently asked for, and she hadn’t expected to be part of it, much less for Percy and Vax to be part of the meeting as well.

What  _ had  _ Vex been expecting then? Not this.  _ Definitely _ not this.

She doesn’t need a mirror or for anyone to tell her that she’s blushing furiously; she can feel heat in her cheeks and in the tips of her ears. There is tea still somewhere up her nose, and she coughs a little against the ache it causes in the bridge of her nose. Vex dabs at her mouth with a napkin, but the damage is already done; she can tell by the way Syldor is very clearly losing a battle with the smug smirk threatening to take over the corner of his lips.

“Beg pardon?” Vex asks, half-rasping and half-squeaking, determinedly not looking even in the general direction of either de Rolo siblings.

Syldor starts with a small shrug. “Was I not clear enough?” he asks, smugness barely concealed in his tone, “I offer - no,  _ suggest _ a marriage of convenience. Vex’ahlia of Syngorn, and Lord Percival of Whitestone. Both nobility, both of age, both eligible, and both to mutually benefit from the union, in more ways than one, I’m quite sure.”

“‘Mutually benefit,’” Vax echoes with a snort, “With all due respect, Lord Syldor, I’m not sure Syngorn has anything that Whitestone might need or want.”

Syldor’s eyebrows rise in near-perfect arches on his forehead. “Oh no?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepling in front of him, “We have information, we have refuge, we have numbers and weapons to add to the fight against your dragons, to name a few.”

Beside Vex, Vax scoffs. “We’ve been over this,” he tells Syldor, “The war against the Conclave is not exclusive to Whitestone alone.”

Another shrug from Syldor. “Hence the proposal,” he states, looking from one person to the other, “I’m...sensing some...reluctance.”

“ _ Just  _ reluctance?” Vax huffs, but Cassandra talks over him. 

“As a diplomat yourself, Lord Syldor,” she says evenly, “You’ll understand that there are more components to this than just what will be exchanged between the two factions through the pairing.”

“Such as?” Syldor asks. The coldness in his tone irritates Vex enough to snap her back to the moment almost aggressively.

“Consent, for one thing,” Cassandra replies simply, chin almost parallel to the surface of the table they’re sitting at, “I confess I’m not very familiar with the way things are done in Syngorn, but here in Whitestone, and certainly in my family, we have always reinforced that any and all negotiations that involve any sort of trade requires only the fullest consent from all parties concerned, or no exchange will be allowed to take place.”

When Syldor turns his gaze onto Vex, Vex only returns his shrug, fighting very hard to keep a smirk off her face.

“Are you implying a  _ lack  _ of consent in this particular circumstance, Lady Cassandra?” asks Syldor, but his eyes stay on Vex. Vex just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Not at all, Lord Syldor,” Cassandra answers, sipping from her tea, “That would be up to my brother and to  _ Lady _ Vex’ahlia to decide. You see, here in Whitestone, and certainly in my family, we aren’t in the practice of using a person’s faculties as currency.”

Both Vax and Percy let out small chuckles, while Vex is quite sure the gasp that just escaped her could be heard around the room. Across her, the grin Percy is offering his sister is one of smug satisfaction and pride; he isn’t even bothering to hide it, and that makes Vex nearly laugh out loud.

Syldor  _ hmphs _ , tugging at his robes as if to straighten them. “My daughter, consenting to marriage? Not likely, not from what I knew of her as a child. I fear it might be easier to have Vax’ildan consent to a union with you, Lady Cassandra.”

It’s Percy’s turn to choke on his tea, and it’s just loud enough so that Vax’s “Oh,  _ fuck off, _ ” is barely heard. To Vex’s slight surprise, Cassandra remains composed, smiling almost sweetly at Syldor.

“I appreciate the underlying compliment, my lord,” says Cassandra, “But you and your son will forgive me if I say honestly that I have no interest at this point in time. No offense, of course, Vax.”

“Absolutely none taken,” Vax tells her with a tiny laugh.

Cassandra offers Vax a small bow of her head. “Besides, Lord Syldor,” Cassandra continues, “As far as I have seen, I was under the impression that Vax is already spoken for.”

Choking on tea seems to be the night’s trend, as it happens to Vax as well now, the second time it has happened to him tonight. Vex is almost certain at least half his tea has ended up on his clothes or up his nose instead of in his stomach.

“Is he now?” Syldor asks, turning a raised eyebrow at his son.

“Don’t even think about it,” Vax warns him, matching his expression, “Cassandra isn’t wrong - I  _ am _ spoken for.”

Syldor regards Vax for a while. “And so, I had believed, was your sister,” he tells Vax, “Or did I read incorrectly when your party came to Syngorn for my aid?”

“Read...what incorrectly?” Cassandra asks, unable to keep the intrigued look off her face.

It is Syldor’s turn to smile at Cassandra. “Did you not know, my lady?” he asks her, “I would’ve thought you did.  _ Lady _ Vex’ahlia was titled by your brother in  _ my _ home, in  _ my  _ presence, and in the presence of my court.”

Cassandra turns inquisitive eyes at Percy, who gives her a significant look over his tea that Cassandra clearly understands even though no words are spoken. Vex sees her give Percy a slight nod. 

“That title, as it is a Whitestone title, was formalized in  _ this _ court, Lord Syldor,” Cassandra tells Vex’s father, sitting a little straighter in her chair, “I can assure you.”

“Oh, do not get me wrong, my lady,” Syldor laughs, and Vex clenches a fist and reminds herself not to punch him in the face, “I do not question the legitimacy of the title, but I do wonder at the reason for it happening. I may not know how it is in Whitestone, but in Syngorn, and certainly in my people, titles are not granted lightly.”

Vex wonders if Syldor too catches the fleeting flicker that happens in the eyelids of Cassandra’s left eye.

“Neither are they here in Whitestone,” Percy answers, piping up for the first time since Syldor made his proposal, “And I can assure you that my actions were warranted. The reasons, however, are my own.”

The nod that Syldor gives Percy slowly is weighted. “Noted, Lord Percival,” he answers, “I had just come to understand that one of those reasons was a plan to unite our cities by marrying my daughter.”

This, at last, is the final straw for Vex. How dare he.  _ How dare he _ . It’s bad enough that Syldor walks into someone else’s home and stomps all over her in front of her friends, but for him to imply that Percy could be so... _ shallow _ and  _ petty _ ...

Vex bolts straight up, her chair scratching loudly across the floor beneath. All eyes turn to her, but her eyes are trained only on her father’s. “You have some nerve,” she says, feeling her anger bubbling in the pits of her stomach, “You walk in here, dump some fucked-up proposal to  _ barter me like cattle _ , then blame it on some trumped-up impression of my friends subscribing to  _ your _ archaic beliefs? What  _ are  _ you? What  _ the fuck _ are you?”

But Syldor’s face is a pristine, if loose, mask of plastered calm. He doesn’t answer Vex, but she wasn’t expecting him to. Nevertheless, the fist Vex has at her side is shaking slightly. 

“Fuck your ‘ _ offer’ _ of exchange,” Vex hisses, “And fuck  _ you _ . I will be no one’s goddamn leverage.”

She stomps off, and in the silence that follows her statement, she can hear her own footsteps clattering on the stone and echoing off the walls.

 

* * *

 


	2. The Holes That You Burned In Me

* * *

 

 

She makes a bee-line for her quarters, not stopping until she throws her door open and flings herself onto her bed. She’s crying, and this surprises her. Her tears are out of anger, and not just at her father. She should’ve known better than to expect him to be any better, to think any better of people, of her. She had set herself up for this disappointment, hadn’t she? As hostile as she remains towards her father, there’s still that part of her that seems to still  _ hope _ , as if she has had that hope for him rewarded in the past, and yet she ends up still hurt, still  _ offended _ . Vex honestly can’t tell what’s worse - that her father hasn’t changed at all, or that some part of her still hopes that he would.

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when there’s a knocking on Vex’s door. Sniffling and wiping hastily at her cheeks, Vex pushes herself up off her bed, clearing her throat as she asks whoever her visitor is for a minute to compose herself.

Vex is surprised to find not only that she hadn’t closed her door, but that Percy is now standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame and regarding her with a sympathetic look.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks genially, “I’ve brought a friend.” He raises both hands, one of which holds a bottle of wine, the other clasping two pewter goblets. With a little smile, he gives his gifts a tiny shake.

Vex lets out a deep breath that makes her entire form sag. “Yes, fine, come in,” she relents with a sigh, “You’re lucky I like your friend so much. You, on the other hand, might be the last person I want to see right now, even if I’m not angry with  _ you _ .”

“I had surmised as much,” Percy chuckles, kicking the door closed behind him. He approaches her, but stops short of sitting beside her on the bed. At the look of askance on his face, Vex feels the tips of her ears flicker a little. She scooches over a bit, offering him a spot beside her.

“You realize you just gave me permission to share your bed?” Percy asks with a hint of a tease as he uncorks the wine and starts to pour some into one cup.

Vex snorts as she takes the goblet offered to her by Percy. “Don’t let my father hear you say that,” she tells him, “Next thing you know, he’ll be naming the children he thinks we’re about to birth, all in the name of  _ alliance _ and  _ diplomatic advantage _ . Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if those are  _ exactly  _ the names he’d give our offspring.” She downs about half the contents of her goblet in one go.

“Would it be so bad though?” Percy asks, “Being married to me?”

Vex downs the rest of her goblet; Percy is quick to refill it. “Oh, Percy, it isn’t about you,” she sighs, “You  _ know _ it isn’t about you.”

“I know, dear,” he tells her, laughing a little, “At least, with you, I believe it isn’t. I was just teasing.”

Vex pokes him in the side with a finger, and Percy laughs a little more. “You’re a cruel man, Percival de Rolo,” she huffs.

“And the sky gets dark when the night comes,” Percy points out, “What else is new?”

Vex giggles into her goblet, but the mirth disappears quicker than she can grab it. After a swig, she sighs, careful as she brings her drink down. Her fingers tap at the metal as she stares into the wine at her own shaky reflection.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” she asks, voice soft and uncertain, “I mean...my anger isn’t...misplaced, or crazy, or anything like that?”

She hears Percy sipping at his own cup. “I personally don’t think so,” he tells her after a while, although he seems to think his words over first before he continues, “And it isn’t just because your father is...not exactly a model parent. The very concept of arranged marriages has never held any appeal to me, or my family. Well, not that many of my family lived long enough to contemplate the necessity of them.”

Vex glances at Percy out of the corner of her eyes, but he merely shrugs and takes a drink again. Vex imitates him, taking the bottle from him afterwards and filling her cup again before filling his. “He talked about the whole thing like some sort of  _ business deal _ ,” she says, “As though it were goods and services that would be exchanged instead of, you know,  _ actual people _ .”

“Ultimately though, such an arrangement  _ is _ a business deal,” Percy replies, giving his wine a bit of a swill, “Only it doesn’t take actual businesspeople to arrange them. All you really need are two or more noble families who have massive potentials for mutual benefit. Nary a thought is usually spared for feelings and emotions and all that; that’s just some nasty byproduct that no one really wants the responsibility of dealing with.”

Vex can feel her upper lip curling. “Vile,” she proclaims into her wine, “Still. Doesn’t give him the right to treat me less than...less than…”

She trails off, realizing where her train of thought wanted to go. Pain spikes through her, and she feels stinging heat behind her eyes as tears begin to blur her vision.

“Less than he already does?” Percy finishes for her, “I agree.”

“Of course you would,” Vex answers with a mirthless chuckle.

“Well, you're not wrong about him treating you less,” Percy tells her, taking the hand she has around her goblet and drawing it close so he can fill it up again, “But you might be about what you think he thinks you less than.”

Vex snorts audibly, wet eyes rolling hard.

“I’m serious,” says Percy, “I had to sit there and watch him try to one-up my sister all night, but there was more than just him wanting the upper hand. Your father said many things, Vex, some of them about you, but I don’t think any of them were untrue.”

“Hah,” Vex punches out, “All he said about me was that I should be someone else’s problem to deal with, and in exchange he would offer soldiers and weapons.”

“But he also called you his daughter.”

Vex feels her eyebrow almost disappear into her hairline as she turns a look of exasperation at Percy. “I haven’t felt like his daughter  _ in years _ ,” she retorts, “I’ve never felt like I had a father in him. I have someone who used to hold some authority over me simply because he is half the reason I even physically exist, but that is it. I have never felt him care for me, be concerned about me, wonder if I’m safe, remember what I like and don’t like...I have never felt that he loved me as a father should a daughter. And it’s not as if he’s incapable of such a thing - my sister is proof that he  _ can _ be a loving father. Just...not to me. When Vax and I left, did he even once send someone to look for us and try to bring us back? When he learned that we were alive and thriving, did he lift a finger to at least write and say that he was glad we weren’t dead? Vax and I were always little more than extra cargo to him. Charges that he had to take care of because it made him a better person in the eyes of everyone else. He sheltered us, fed us, gave us an education, but only to make himself look good. We were polished up like jewelry for him to put on when the occasion calls for it. We were problem children, and what a hero he was for taking care of us, half-breed rabble that we are.” She shakes her head. “No, Percy. Me being his daughter is a lie, one he maintains only when it proves beneficial to him.”

Throughout her mini-tirade, Percy is silent, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Vex sniffles, casting her eyes elsewhere, wondering what he might be thinking. A faint dripping sound makes her think a tear or two have landed in her wine. And then, wordlessly, he shifts forward, reaches out with his free hand, and gently wipes tears away from Vex’s cheek.

“ I'm sorry,” he offers quietly, a small but soft smile on his lips.

“For what?” asks Vex, somewhat shakily.

“I can hardly imagine the pain you must be feeling,” Percy says, “I wish I knew how to make it hurt less, but I don’t. And for that, dear, I am sincerely sorry.”

Vex can’t help but return his smile, smaller though it might be. In the silence that follows, she becomes acutely aware of Percy’s thumb running slow and feather-light across her cheek, something electric in his barely-there touch, and Vex blushes. She clears her throat and, with what she thinks is rather herculean effort on her part, turns her face away just ever slightly. Percy, thankfully, gets the idea, and withdraws his hand. Vex wonders if the reluctance she sensed in him doing that is all in her mind.

Percy runs a hand through his hair, swigs from his drink. “If it’s any consolation, darling,” he says, filling his goblet and offering the rest of the contents of the wine bottle to Vex, who hold out her cup for him to refill, “Cassandra and I have agreed that we will not let this happen, at least not without your express and full consent.”

Vex forces herself to gulp her drink down quickly. “Oh, Percy, don’t,” she pleads, “I mean, it’s not  _ ideal _ , but if my refusal compromises Whitestone or puts it in danger in any way, then --”

But Percy puts a hand up to stop her mid-sentence. “Your father may have clout,” he tells Vex, “He may have the power of politics, he may have an army, but so do we. Now, I’m not saying we would go to war over such a trifling thing, but we at least have both the capability and the capacity to do so should he decide to go down that route. And yes, Lady Vex’ahlia, that ‘we’ includes you. You are of Whitestone.” He stops short, and Vex thinks she sees him light up a little. “You are...of Whitestone…”

Vex watches his gaze trail away in what she imagines is the same direction that his ideas were now going. He starts to grin, slowly, out of one corner of his mouth first, but then it spreads to the other end. His eyes narrow a bit, and now Vex can practically see the wheels in his head turning.

“...Percy?” she says softly, waving a hand in front of his face, “Darling? Are you all right?”

Percy blinks once, then twice, then his eyes refocus on Vex. “Yes,” he replies, and the half-octave drop in his voice tells Vex that he’s rather proud of whatever scheme he might’ve just concocted in his head, “Quite all right. And you will be too.” He turns only to set his still full goblet down on the table beside the bed. When he turns back to Vex, he puts both hands on either of her shoulders, and looks her right in the eyes. “Listen. Try to shake your anger with your father off for tonight, at least for as long as you’re asleep.  _ Try  _ to get a good night’s rest, and don’t think about any of what happened tonight. Cassandra has invited Syldor to meet again at brunch tomorrow morning, and I promise you, by the end of that, all will be well. All right?”

“I know that look on your face, Percy,” Vex points out, and she can feel herself smirking.

“And do you trust it?” he asks of her, “Do you trust  _ me _ ?”

Vex snorts. “Is that a trick question?” she replies at first, but lets her expression soften, “Of course, I do.”

Percy nods. “This is one of the few times I’m glad to hear that someone does,” he laughs, “Trust that everything will turn out well. And if it doesn’t, then you get to tell me you told me so, but even then, trust that my sister and I, the ruling family of Whitestone, will do everything in our power to protect one of our own. Yes?”

Vex twines her fingers in her lap, her eyes watching what she’s doing with her hands. “You really don’t have to, you know,” she says, barely louder than a breath, “You don’t have to do that for me, you don’t have to put potential diplomatic ties in jeopardy just for  _ me _ . I’m just...I’m just me, I’m no one special.”

Percy chuckles, shaking his head. “That you still believe that of yourself makes me think I haven’t even done enough to prove you wrong about yourself.”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Vex answers hastily, “I don’t mean it that way!”

Percy’s smile softens. “I know you don’t, dear,” he promises, “Still, it means that I can still try harder.” He sighs, looking away momentarily. “You are...far more than you believe you are. Perhaps far more than  _ I  _ believe you are, and that’s saying something. You  _ are _ special, I’ve believed that of you for a long time. You are important to me, and that is more than enough justification.” He takes another deep breath, and now turns back to her, lifting one hand to place one palm on her cheek, his fingers in her hair. “You will not be dealing with this alone. I won’t let you. I promise. All right?”

He’s so close, and his tone is so gentle. The look in his eyes is reassuring, and his touch is sweet and warm. It’d be easy, wouldn’t it, to just...lean into him, and…

Vex catches herself, mentally giving herself a smack upside the back of her head. “All right,” she says, and she wonders quietly how long Percy was waiting for her to answer, “Okay. I trust you, Percival.”

Percy’s expression eases. “Good,” he sighs, “Tomorrow should be  _ fun _ . Tonight, though, leave it all lay in a corner of this room until you need it again. Get some rest, please.”

Vex nods, and the hand he has on her cheek follows her movements. “I will,” she tells him, “Right back at you, okay?”

Percy chuckles, then, in a move that completely catches Vex off-guard, leans forward and kisses her forehead sweetly. The kiss stuns her to distraction, and she freezes, blinking.

“Goodnight, Vex,” Percy says, relinquishing his hold on her. As he gets off her bed, he retrieves his wine goblet, hers, and the empty bottle, and then he’s out the door, which closes with a soft click behind him.

Vex doesn’t know how long she sits there, staring at nothing and smiling to herself. When she does come back to herself, she laughs, incredulous and embarrassed, as if there’s anyone around to see how red she has gone. She bites at her lip as a hand loosely rests over closed eyes, even as she continues to let out little giggles. She’s feeling ridiculously giddy, as if she’s just been told a secret that’s exclusively for her to know. The light of the moon shining through her window catches her gaze as her fingers move from over her eyes to between her teeth. Vex looks out at the moon, and at the stars twinkling around it. It might just be her imagination, but the moon seems to wink at her.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Vex wakes the next morning to Trinket nudging at whatever parts of her he can reach from the floor. She’s slow to waking, and it takes her a while to realize that someone is knocking on her door. Rising with a stretch and a groan, she calls out “Just a minute!” and rubs at her eyes. Trinket lets out a quiet growl, and as Vex gets to her feet, she gives him a little good-morning scratch on the top of his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

She stops on the way to her door only long enough to pull her provided sleeping robe off the rack it’s hanging on and put it on. She’s still drawing it close around her when she opens her door.

There stands Percy, hair and outfit as immaculate as the smile he greets her with. “Good morning!” he says brightly, “I hope you slept well?”

Vex shrugs, holding her door open with one hand while the other keeps her robe closed over her front. “I think I did,” she tells him honestly, “I mean, I popped Trinket out, so he kept the bad dreams at bay.”

Percy dodges to the side momentarily to offer Trinket a thumbs-up. “Good job, buddy!” he says. As if the bear can understand him, Trinket lets out what sounds like an affirmative, and even seems to nod. Vex giggles.

“So,” Percy starts, “Remember how I said last night that ‘we’ includes you? This is  _ my _ part.” He pats the bundle that Vex only now sees he has been holding. “Well, my sister’s, really, but I came up with the idea, so I suppose this is  _ our  _ part. Or, the first part of our part, anyway.” He holds the bundle out to Vex. “For you. Don’t open it now, wait until I’ve gone and you’ve started getting ready for brunch. You’ll know what to do.”

Vex isn’t awake enough to keep the confusion off her face as she takes the thing from Percy. “This isn’t going to explode, is it?”

Percy chuckles. “Not as far as  _ I  _ know,” he says, “Don’t worry. This is just to help you with  _ your  _ part this morning. You don’t  _ have _ to use it, but I suggest you do all the same.”

Vex turns Percy’s gift this way and that. “What is it?” she asks, truly curious.

“You’ll see,” is all Percy tells her about it, “See you at brunch.” He winks at her then, and walks away, whistling to himself. The whistling is  _ definitely  _ new, or at least Vex has either never or rarely heard Percy just randomly whistling. It makes her wonder what he must be thinking, what he must be prepared for, and what he’s hoping she’ll do for her role in the whole thing.

Closing the door, Vex takes Percy’s present to her bed. As she passes Trinket, he sniffs curiously at it, then makes a sound that seems to say that he knows nothing more than Vex already does. Vex is very careful as she undoes the ties and unfolds the paper wrapping the gift. The color that greets her is enough to make her gasp audibly, and she abandons all care and starts ripping away at the rest of the thin, flimsy paper.

It is far more than Vex expected, but then again, what  _ had _ she been expecting? She hadn’t even expected to be woken by Percy, much less receive a gift from him. As she takes the separate pieces out and lays them out to figure out how they go together, her shock and bemusement grows. She runs her hands over everything, incredulous beyond fuck-all at both the boon she has been given and the generosity of those who gave it to her.

“Oh, I’m  _ definitely _ using this,” she says with a little laugh. Trinket snorts in approval.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on the final chapter, I ammmmmmmm.


End file.
